


love me tender

by stokiometry



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Character Study, Communication, David Lieberman Needs a Hug, Fluff, Frank Castle needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stokiometry/pseuds/stokiometry
Summary: They knew each other in the deepest of ways, yet David always felt like he was stepping over some invisible boundary with Frank.“I'm alive.”But he wasn't – he was a dead man walking on two legs more than half of the time and never really sounded like he was living.Every part of him was tuned into Frank.And it hurt.





	love me tender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stark_lord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stark_lord/gifts).



> For one of my favorite people - thank you for being here from the very beginning.
> 
> First FrankDavid fic and first completed fic in a long time -- all because of you. Here's to many more ship fics in the future <3  
> Takes place some time in canon, no specifics -- I took some liberties, lol
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!

There was nothing but a comfortable silence in between them – there was never really anything else that they needed, an actual presence beside them doing more to soothe than a promised word. An _I’ll be here_ – because, really, they both knew betrayal, they both knew how quickly people could come and go and be out of your life like smoke. They both knew how quickly promises could be broken.

But sometimes, David couldn’t stop himself from saying it – that they were together, that they were a _team_ , a pair that acted in unison instead of divided (no matter how much they bickered because Frank always had his back and David had his). And the brief moments he brought it up – some times more than others – Frank never corrected him. Stopped making little comments; stopped rejecting the notion at _all_.

Sometimes, Frank would look up at him after he said it – a brief, cursory glance that spoke volumes instead of his lips – and David would catch the hint of softness there that Frank never let anyone other than him see. And Frank didn’t dare voice it, either.

Because he was a man of little words and mostly action – because vulnerability got to him more than violence did, and acknowledging it made him feel small. Lost. David _knew_ that, and he didn’t _need_ Frank to say what he meant to him, because god, David knew.

He _knew_.

It was in the largest of looks, slightest of touches – sometimes hesitant, sometimes more confident, more assertive.

Frank never overstayed his welcome, never gave more than what he thought was acceptable. Most often than not, he’d simply clap him on the back – would only nudge him with his shoulder after David had done it first.

He didn’t ask for comfort.

He never asked for comfort.

He probably didn’t trust himself to.

...

 _Typically_ , there was nothing but a comfortable silence in between them, the soft clicking of his mouse and pressing of keys the only sound that filled the room.

This was routine – them settling into their prospective areas; David typing away at his computer and Frank a few paces away at the table, cleaning his guns.

Except, this time, there was nothing from Frank other than a tense silence. His guns sat in front of him – David had watched him put them there, earlier – but there was no movement other than that. Nothing. He could hear nothing, see nothing out of the corner of his eye.

Could only feel eyes against his back.

And it wasn’t threatening, no – nothing about Frank ever was, anymore; David had seen it all – but it left him feeling lost.

Like there was something wrong, something simmering beneath the surface that he didn’t trust himself to voice.

(not that he spoke much)

“...so, uh.” When David turned to face him, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he could place that look. David was the sole thing to anchor him to the ground – he was the bridge to remind him that he was _alive_ . That he was _living_ , that he was _human_. “I’ve been thinking.”

And David didn’t know what to do with that information. With _himself_.

Because he had felt it before. With _Frank_. And that was probably the only reason he could recognize it on someone other than himself.

“...Yeah?”

“You can really be shitty sometimes, you know?” He stood from his rolling chair, shoving his hands into his pockets in an effort to hide his fidgeting that Frank would be able to recognize from a mile away. “To yourself. ”

“ _Lieberman_ –”  

He had that look on his face that said he was going to get up and leave again or push him away and David _really_ didn’t want that – nor the _we’re not having this conversation_ tone.

“Frank.” He murmured – gentle, always gentle, with none of the heat Frank had used –  but Frank’s fists were clenching and unclenching like he was preparing himself for a battle he wasn’t sure he’d win. The few steps across the room were quick; David was by his side in an instant, laying a hand on his shoulder. Frank tensed, closing his eyes, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth.

 _We’re a team_ , he didn’t say, but it lingered in the air all the same.

 _You’re family_ , he didn’t say, because he didn’t think he’d want to hear it. Because it might be the one thing that made Frank crack.

For the first time, David felt a little _lost_ – he knew everything that made Frank tick.

Everything about the things he _shouldn’t_ do because it would upset him – he knew how to make him smile on the brief occasion, laugh on rarer ones – but he didn’t know how to make things _right_.

He never knew how to make things right.

Sarah and his kids were an example of that.

“You’re...”

 _Perfect_ , he didn’t say, because Frank would deny it until the day he died.

Because, yeah, no one could be perfect, but he’d told it to his family so often and got watery smiles that he wished he could say the same to Frank and press soft kisses to his bruised knuckles until he’d _believe it._

He’d never believe it.

But flaws and all, he was someone beautiful to David.

“ – can I hug you?”

The question slipped with his natural grace – awkward and sudden, yet no hesitation in the world. Just. There.

And yet Frank was staring at him like he couldn’t believe the shit that had come out of his mouth.

Not that David had expected it from himself, either, but seeing Frank wrapped up inside his own head with no safe, healthy outlet got so _unbearable_ , sometimes.

(and it was juvenile, sure. probably the most juvenile thing that had come out of his mouth in years, but David didn't exactly like the idea of surprising Frank if it wasn't expected or wanted)

“I want to.” He covered Frank's hand with his own, trying to ignore the own thudding of his heart. Comfort, he just wanted to comfort him. Asking was awkward but not entirely unpleasant because it was _Frank_ , but there was still the notion that he’d get rejected. Which was fine. David understood personal space, but he didn’t think that’d be the reason behind a refusal. Frank never allowed himself what he wanted. “I _want_ to touch you – _not_ _like_ _that_ , okay, you wouldn't be able to ignore the moose in the room.”

He huffed at Frank's little chuckle, feeling himself smile.

“...Whatever, Lieberman.” He said it like anything else that came from him – dismissive, like it didn’t mean much – like this wasn’t crossing a small line they’d never really discussed before. His expression was unreadable for a second, before it melted into something fond, a light dust of color brushing across his cheeks.

David’s chest tightened. He was sure he looked more than idiotic at this moment.

“You gonna stand around all day, or what?”

Well, he wasn’t about to second-guess himself _now_ of all times _._

 

*

 

It became another routine of theirs.

After the first awkward _I-have-to-ask_ - _so-Frank-doesn’t-hurl-me-across-the-room_ , their contact became more frequent and less discussed.

David would glue himself to Frank’s side after more grueling missions, patching him up (Frank would never let him do it unless he couldn’t do it himself)– it got quicker the more Frank got hurt, but no less painful, no more easier – and staying closer than normal if things were particularly bad.

Frank would throw himself into the same destructive cycle after a few days rest, so nothing changed much, other than David seeking him out to ensure he didn’t rip all of his stitches – and to call him stupid with all the fondness in the world while holding his face in his hands.

So nothing changed much, other than the feeling of encompassing warmth when Frank’s hand lingered on his back for more than a brief moment – his small smile enough to make him lose his breath.

Nothing changed much, except everything changed the slightest – and it all felt _normal_.

Natural.

They had been together for so long – had been touch-starved for longer – that it was no surprise they took comfort in any little touch either of them could give.

It was a small step in the right direction.

It gave David the sense that he _was_ doing something good, for once, instead of fucking everything up –

But it would come crashing down, soon enough.

It had to.

He'd gotten too lucky by having Frank in his life and that luck would run out soon. Like it had the first time.

Every time he’d gotten too comfortable, too happy with where he was, God would come and give him the finger – as if he didn’t deserve happiness.

(and lord knew he got enough of those self-deprecating thoughts with Frank that he tried hard to barely entertain them himself. but they came, they always did)

Maybe he would push too hard eventually or ask for too much and Frank would realize that he couldn't handle what David asked for; Frank _seemed_ comfortable with this, more comfortable than David had ever expected, but surely there had to be an extent?

…

…

Okay, _first_ , thinking like that left him shuddering – how did Frank _do_ this all the time? He’d rather drink his sad, mopey, shitty self away and force himself to forget come morning, but Frank dealt with it _sober._

(that alone had him reaching for the bottle)

And second – nah, he trusted Frank would fuck him up the moment things went south and if he didn’t like it. They were grown ass adults. And David trusted him. Trust was their Thing.

With a capital T.

Because if they didn’t have each other, then who else did they have?

David sure as hell had no one – he was a failure of a father; his kids still adored him now, after death, but it’d only be time before they resented him. Of a husband; he hadn’t left Sarah with all the memories he’d planned to make with her. He hadn’t appreciated her the way he did now, stuck behind a screen, unable to touch. He hadn’t been able to make better memories with all three of them.

Of a partner. Frank was gone, had been for hours – he’d insisted he could handle things alone tonight; implied David was too exhausted to help, like he could hear the repressed thoughts he was holding back and told him to _fucking sleep_ with all bite and all tenderness that made David go soft and irritable at once.

But Frank was gone and David was worried and David was _always_ worried so _no_ _fucking surprise there_ even though Frank knew better than anyone how to take care of himself (and also failed better than anyone, injury-wise).

He could be in a ditch somewhere and David would just be _here_ , a currently useless partner to the better half – David couldn’t even be on the field with him unless it was providing the transportation.

He was under no illusion that he could do half of the things Frank did, but this time? It got to him. Clung to him. Left him helpless, grasping for any semblance of control that didn’t make him feel like he was falling.

No wonder he’d been best friends with Russo, who was a traitor if he’d ever seen one – and David would get up close and personal if Frank ever asked, but Frank would never ask because David would probably die before he ever got the chance to hurt him –

– and that was  _not_ the point here.

The _point_ was that Billy had been the one to help Frank _in_ those missions. David was just tech. Transportation. Not manpower. Not like Russo.

 _(Billy. fucking. Russo_ )

Some hotshot he was – David could help, _too._ He was one of the best, if not _the_ best, in his field.

And _okay_ , he’d admit it, he was on his way to getting drunk.

He was only buzzed – no, slightly drunk?

No, not drunk _enough_.

Frank would probably laugh at the turn his thoughts had taken. Or shake him. Or both. He knew how disgustingly mopey David could get like this.

His thoughts were too loud bouncing in his head and they should have been _gone_ by now, numbing static against the burn of the alcohol. But everything was loud. Far too loud for his liking.

He stared down at the bottle in his hand and back up at the too bright lights –

He needed to get more drunk.

...

This sucked.

 

*

 

He passed out in between losing track of time and drinking far too much than what was _ever_ advertised in those fancy alcohol commercials – the worry had stayed, but he had tapered it down, made it more manageable, stopped being able to hear it when he could barely string two sentences together.

By the tenth hour without Frank, the worry had sobered him up the slightest – along with plenty, plenty of water, the incessant need to pee that kept waking him up, and the bright, headache-inducing alarm clock that read **_5:03 A.M_ ** – and he laid in bed clutching Frank’s phone like he expected him to _call_ from a shitty payphone.

(did Frank even know his own number?)

Frank was prompt, deliberate – he never did anything without a reason and when he said he'd be back by a certain time, he _meant_ it. He always did. The more time went by, the more thoughts came knocking on his mind like a insistent neighbor – always there, always lurking – leaving him cold all over.

When another hour passed and he fought the urge to cry, he took a few deep breaths in hopes that it’d pass – wanting another drink to muddy it all.

But he was all out of beer and fresh into a new set of worry that he just let exhaustion take over again.

...

He hadn’t expected waking up some time later to the dip of the bed; hadn’t expected the warmth to sear hot against him as Frank made himself comfortable pressed against his back, face burying into his neck – forehead damp with sweat that David couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , complain about.

Frank knew he was awake – he _had_ to – he must have known from the moment his breathing had changed.

But he didn’t say anything.

Neither did David.

He first became increasingly aware of the empty bottles that were scattered on the floor somewhere, of the stale alcohol curled into the back of his tongue – second, of Frank’s trembling hand against his stomach.

He covered it with his own –

( – and forced the shitty thoughts to quiet.)

– rubbing his thumb against the back of Frank’s hand, a light, ghostly caress, the _I’m here_ without words. If there was a little desperation in his touch, if he held on a little tighter, shuddered while trying to hold his composure, Frank didn’t comment.

It was their truce.

Their safe space – within each other’s presence.

Frank barely lost his composure in front of him – unless it was anger, always anger; it was the only thing he knew, the only thing that felt safe, controlled – but he made sure David always knew he was there. He wouldn’t speak for a moment about the things that plagued him, never accepted the offered hand, but listening? He made sure David never lingered on something for too long. Made sure he knew Frank was there.

It was a gesture David only wished could be mutual, that Frank would rely on him more. That he'd come to him half as much as he went into his destructive tendencies.

But he couldn’t take the first step for him. He’d already tried a million times.

Frank was a wall of reinforced steel.

And David kept bouncing against it, all soft and squishy with little edge.

(he didn't think he'd ever stop trying, though. trying _showed_ he cared.)

There was a silence – not uncomfortable nor tense, but just… present. Neither of them usually felt the need to fill it, but this time, David couldn't help but to wonder what was on Frank's mind. Wondered what had happened.

But, no –

No, it didn't matter now.

All he could feel was relief sinking deep in his bones because Frank was here, Frank was _safe_ and _that_ was all that mattered.

He took another deep breath – sure he was holding onto Frank's hand too tight to be considered calm – feeling the burn behind his eyes and hating himself for every second of it.

“I practiced my playing while you were gone.” His voice came out a little too rough, a little too tired – a little too _wrecked._ “Tried to get my Elvis on – completely failed at it, but, uh, it was a start.”

Frank was silent behind him.

“Figured we could play together or something some time– actually start a 2-man boy band this time, call ourselves Wired Critters. One of us on the guitar, the other singing – or screaming, really, we can be a screamo group; kids love that these days, right?”

He felt Frank chuckle; the quiet huff of air brushing against his neck, the  rumbling of his chest against his back. Every part of David was tuned into him.

It hurt.

“I think Zach’s getting into that kind of thing – and you’d sway over the kids, anyway. You’re good at charming people, Frank, you’ve always been. Sarah, me – you _are_ good with people.”

Really good with _me_ , he didn’t say.

“Just, uh, even though you don’t talk much, there’s just something about you that draws people in. And I know – I _know_ you don’t like letting people into your little bubble, but I’ve kinda let myself in there anyway.” His hand was getting sweaty around Frank’s. “But now I don't know how to take a step back even when you tell me to – “

The amount of times Frank tried to push him away were staggering.

“I never have, I always care too much, Frank. You know, you – you always give me some kinda sign that I’m nudging a bit too hard sometimes and _this_ is gonna be one of those times and – ”

He cut himself off. Breathed in sharply.

The hand on his stomach reached towards his face to wipe the tears he didn’t even notice falling.

Tender.

Frank was always tender.

“You worry too much, y'know that?”

His voice was soft.

Soothing.

(it always was. _he_ always was)

He closed his eyes. Asked them silently to stop burning. Asked himself to stop being so stupid.

“Yeah, you're right.” He laughed instead – quiet, full of despondence and bitterness and so much _self-loathing._ “You're right.”

There was a moment of stillness.

He psyched himself up for a conversation neither of them wanted to have. Frank wouldn't open himself up, but David never truly expected him to in the first place, no matter how much he'd hoped. David had opened enough wounds for the both of them combined.

“I can’t protect the people I care about, Frank. I can't. I've got to rely on you the moment something happens to Sarah and the kids– I'm not stupid, I know I can't protect them myself. And with you? Who can I rely on to keep _you_ safe?”

“Myself.” A grumble, a single word – he’d caught on to the meaning behind this conversation –  and _tired_ , Frank was _tired_ and David wished he hadn't worried in the first place. Wished it wasn't in his nature to constantly push. Frank clammed up when he got like this, shut down – yet David always pressed. Always. As if he didn't know what else to do. Because there wasn't anything else for him to do.

“Yeah, sure, but you're out looking for an early grave. I know what you're doing, Frank, I _know_ the risks – I'm not trying to stop you.”

“Then what? What is this?”

He gently pulled away from Frank, using the small distance to turn over and face him –

“Teach me.”

– which is why he noticed the immediate recoil. The tense set of his shoulders. Harsh line of his lips.

Like he was preparing himself for something worse than death, worse than torture.

When he spoke, his voice had lost all of its softness.

“ _No_.”

“Frank, I want to _help_ – more than I already am – ”

“You've got kids and a wife to go back to – and we _both_ know you can't do this kind of shit. You said it, it's not your deal.”

“I changed my mind – ”

“ _Bullshit.”_ There was nothing but pure _fury_ in his tone when he shot up. “This ain't somethin’ you can spend a night thinking about and decide it's something you wanna commit to. You're in over your goddamn head – ”

“ _Because of you, Frank._ ” They were both breathing hard. “Because of _you_.”

Frank stared at him.

“Because I have to watch day after day as you put your life on the line and I can't do _anything_ about it. I _care_ about you.” It was obvious, should have been obvious with everything going on. But he _needed_ to say it. “I can't watch you fall apart like I'm forced to with Sarah and the kids, I can't sit here and do _nothing_ while you go out there and nearly get yourself killed  – do you know how many times I've thought about you? Dying _alone_ out there? And I wouldn't _know_ – I wouldn't be able to do a _damn_ _thing, Frank._ ”

“I'm alive.” But he _wasn't_ – he was a dead man walking on two legs more than half of the time and never really sounded like he was _living_. David couldn't blame him for that – but.

But.

“What _more_ do you want from me?” He didn't know, god, _he didn't know_ , he already knew he was asking for too much. He knew he was selfish. Knew he was already taking too much. “You're not asking me to give up, then – then what? To be _careful?_ ”

He didn't need to scoff for David to hear it in his voice. Sarcasm and anger were always his defense tools. He knew that.

“ _God_ , no, I'm not _stupid_ , but – ”

He just _needed_ to get him to see. To _understand_.

“I've lost most of my family – I can still see them so I _know_ I got lucky – but Frank – ” He buried his fingers in the covers to stop himself from reaching out. Doing something he might regret. “I just – I don't want you to be the first I have to _bury_ – ”

He stopped – not trusting himself to go any further. Shut his eyes the moment he noticed a shift in Frank's expression.

He didn't want to see it.

Didn't want to analyze it, to break it apart, to recognize it like he could always recognize what was unsaid.

The lump in his throat hardened to stone.

It hurt to swallow.

Breathing felt like he was being torn in two.

All he could do was berate himself and berate and _berate_ and _why_ couldn't he just _let_ Frank do what he wanted _–_

 _Why_ did he have to _ruin everything_ the moment no one else ruined it for him _–_

 _Why_ was he like this? Why did he do anything? Why did every action taken feel like _glass shoved between his ribs_ –

“...erman.”

Why did Frank stick with him, if he was nothing but a nuisance at the end of the day? Always questioning his every move, always prying, always pressing, never knowing when to stop because he was an _idiot_ , he always was and always would be _especially_ when it came to Frank and his _protection_ and –

“...vid.”

– he _knew_ he couldn't do anything right, but it was evident now despite the signs being obvious before; he should have seen the signs, should have _recognized_ when to stop, when to let go, when to _stay the hell away_ _from Frank_ because of him being so _reliant_ and _weak_ and –

“ _David_.”

He jolted.

Frank's hands were tugging at his wrists, trying to pull his hands away from – _oh._ He hadn't recognized the pain before, but could feel it now, the sharp sting of where his nails had dug into his arms – harsh enough to tear skin.

Frank lifted up his fingers one by one, guiding him to relax the grip he'd sunk into his forearm, to feel the warmth sticky against the pads of his fingers. He kept his eyes on David's the entire time – something that should have grounded him but he could only feel shaky and the slightest bit mortified.

Heat burned his face.

“Don't.” Frank murmured when he opened his mouth. Shame wormed its way inside his chest now that Frank could _see_ how bad it'd gotten – could _see_ instead of _guess_ – and David had been vulnerable before. About Sarah, about his kids, but never about _him._ Not like this. Never like this.

He usually managed to keep it locked down – away from Frank – but he was losing _control_ again, losing his footing and how _uncomfortable_ Frank must feel, how _humiliating_ was this –

“...need you to breathe for me, David.”

A hand was rubbing small, soft circles into his back, the other pulling him closer – gentle, always gentle – to lean against Frank's shoulder. He shuddered again, full-blown and raw and unable to stop it, but Frank held him through it, rocking them both back and forth to some invisible rhythm.

He wanted to cry again.

He'd already cried enough.

But the tears still crept through, a sob still broke from his lips, salt and snot still probably got onto Frank’s shirt. Didn’t matter how hard he tried to hold them all back.

Slipping.

He was slipping.

His control was slipping.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I need you to do something for me.” Frank murmured at some point when his stupid, pitiful noises died down, running his fingers through his curls like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was something he did often. “To listen to me – you think you can do that, David?”

He nodded, didn't seem to trust his voice, embarrassment clinging to his skin – but Frank wasn’t condescending, wasn't deterred by his display of emotion.

“You're not gonna get yourself into this shit, not gonna pick up a gun – ” David opened his mouth immediately, only to remember Frank's single request and shut it again. The fingers in his hair never stilled, the tone of his voice never changed. He didn't seem angry anymore, just… drained. “You'd go out there, put yourself on the line – hell, wouldn't change shit except I'd have to look after _both_ of us.”

He refused to feel like a burden, refused to feel like some fucking _damsel_ – because he knew that wasn't what he meant. He knew what Frank was implying. What he didn't say.

“Ain't gonna worry about you like that. Don't need to.”  He waited for David to lift his head up before he continued, guiding his face close to press their foreheads together – gaze intense with eyes so soft, yet unwavering that David couldn’t help but to melt a little. “Not now, not ever.”

And some stupid part of him _had_ thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd intruded in Frank's personal bubble a little too much – but the truth was that Frank _wanted_ to keep him there, warm and secure and loved.

“You're…”

It was the first time he'd seen Frank at a loss, trying to scramble for his own words to say. And David… David could only sit there, pressed against him – they'd never let go of each other, never pulled back the slightest – waiting.

He'd always wait.

“The quiet was never something I thought could get used to. Not here, not when there's nothing outside those walls. 'Cause out there – out there, you know how it is.”

He did; he'd _seen_.

The tension that seemed to tighten, a tautness in his shoulders; he was a violin string waiting to snap, but there was an ease to his movements barely shown elsewhere.

Frank looked more sure of himself when he was covered in blood than when he was surrounded by any other kind of warmth.

“No need to think – I know who I am out there. Behind that trigger is the only place that makes me feel _something_. And then you, uh, you came waltzing in with your stupid ass calls and I didn't expect anything out of this, you know. For you to get so _comfortable_ with the damn _Grinch_.”

He paused.

Chuckled a little, but didn't seem to actually find it funny.

“I didn't wanna get comfortable.” Frank pulled away then, shifting so he could lean back against the wall. His gaze drifted away for but a moment before settling up on him again – and there was something so open, so raw about it that he lost his breath. “Didn't think I should – still wonder every day if I'm doing the right thing, you know, can never figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. Don’t think I ever will.”

He had silently asked for a moment so vulnerable, asked for Frank to open up, and now that he'd gotten it, his throat had closed up, heart tightened.

“But we're a team, you know, we strategize together; you’re with your computers, me with my guns and – and that's just how it works. That's just how it is, how _we_ are.”

“...You never thought it'd be different – _easier_ – if I could be out there with you?” David found himself asking quietly, despite everything.

“No.” The conviction rang hard and true. “Not once.”

He swallowed.

“Not just because it’s safer for you with your tech and transport and shit, but – hell, you get used to that kind of thing. _I_ got used to it – listening to you trying to explain tech shit I still don’t understand, waiting for you to pack me a fucking sandwich the next trip we take – ”

Frank didn’t meet his eyes.

“Even, uh, even you always getting on my ass about taking proper care and shit. To come to you. Instead of doing things on my own.”

He watched as Frank’s index finger twitched, how his fingers curled and uncurled like he needed something to keep him steady.

Couldn’t help himself this time as he reached out, covered Frank’s hand with his own.

He didn't regret it.

“I wouldn’t get that if any of this changed – if you were different.” Frank turned his hand over so they could properly lace their fingers together – his heart skipped a beat. Natural, it was natural. “We’re partners. You always say it, so you gotta own it, David, it doesn’t mean you’ve gotta be there every step of the way – you’re there when it counts. When it matters the most.

“And that doesn’t feel like jack shit to you – all you can do is watch when shit hits the fan and you’re left wondering if you can ever do more or if it was ever enough. But what you do, David, the shit you pull and take on – _that’s_ enough.”

 _God_ , Frank always knew how to get to him – he could see through him more often than not, just like David could with him.

He was a cluster of emotion, of feeling – affection, fondness, love, tears – and not knowing how to _express_ it.

“I don’t want you thinking about becoming like me – _ever_. That ain’t you.”

Frank’s hand was caressing his face again and David hummed as he leaned into it, leaned closer.

“Don’t change who you are thinking that it’ll somehow make things better.” Frank’s breathing was steady, far too steady, when they were an inch apart – but his eyes were flicking in all directions: his eyes, off to the side, towards his lips –

David made sure to give him time, space, to pull away or stop him if he needed.

“You’re my partner. _You_ , not anybody else – ”

He fell silent when David mirrored his actions, caressing his cheek. And David couldn’t help but to smile when he realized Frank wasn’t going anywhere – only for it to grow wider when he noticed the tips of his ears had reddened.

His lips were soft against his own – pretty chapped, but hey, so were his and he couldn't complain, lip care was never their priority – and it barely took a second before Frank was kissing him back, slow and gentle and hesitant like he was afraid this would be taken away from him.

Like David would disappear.

His hands were in his hair again, buried tight as if he couldn't get enough – slid down to squeeze the back of his neck with one, the other holding onto him with desperation Frank never showed otherwise.

The mere idea that it was _Frank_ he was holding in his arms – that he could share this with _Frank_ , that Frank _allowed_ himself this, they both did – had him grinning against his lips, effectively ruining the moment.

But he was _floating_ and it was _glorious_ , and _Frank_ was glorious – stubbornness and anger and tenderness and all.

“The one time I’m talking about deep shit, you decide to kiss me, yeah, is that it?”

His voice was flat when they parted, but the soft crinkle of his eyes betrayed his amusement – his adoration – and David couldn’t help but to laugh anyway, soft and quiet and hopeless; always hopelessly entranced.

“Didn’t think I should ask this time.” He squeezed their joined hands. “Would’ve ruined the moment.”

…

...

“But really, what had you gone for so long – I'm _curious_ , alright, and worried – don't look at me like that. You should have known this was coming.”

“Long trip and, uh, more targets than I expected – ”

“ _Frank_.”

“Hey, hey, easy now, feeling me up all the sudden – ”

“ _Jesus Christ, Frank – ”_

“Just a few grazes, yeah? Minor things, nothing that can't heal.”

“A _graze_ – Frank _, is that a bullet wound_ – ”

His quiet laughter-mixed-grumbling filled the room – filled his _heart –_ as David tugged him out of bed so he could look him over in proper lighting – and all he could feel again was staggering relief that Frank had come back to him.

Yeah.

Yeah, they'd be alright.


End file.
